Winter in Nevada
by Moonlightmistborn
Summary: I was as normal as an accused murderer's daughter was going to get. Then, a government agency had to kidnap me and make my life even stranger. Alien robots? Living metal taking over my body structure? Making actual friends who don't give a scrap about who I'm related to? Falling in love again? Yeah. You could call it "crazy". I prefer "awesome". Rated T for language and violence.
1. Chapter 1

**Yep, another new story. Don't kill me.**

 **Unknown P.O.V.**

Stupid. Fragging. School. Hate it so fragging much. Well, more the people than anything. And the boring old lectures. Seriously. Lecturing us about our attitudes isn't going to make us more manageable. Manageable. Did I say that right? Is that a word? It doesn't seem like one.

[OW! Miko! Hitting me in the head with a wrench isn't going to help me! Honestly, I think doc bot is rubbing off on you. OW! Fine! I'll stop criticizing you!]

Ahem. Sorry about that. Anyway. This is a forced confession about my life since it got crazy.

[Yes it is! You blackmailed me! Stop acting like you're innocent, Smokescreen!]

Anyway. My crazy life started when I was walking home from school, complaining about life mentally.

[Fine, Jack. _Crazier_ life. Happy?]

So. There I was. Walking home from school, minding my own business as I contemplated about my life. Angrily. And honestly, who could've blamed me? People at school were jerks because of me being related to my dad. My dad was convicted of first degree murder of my mom, but apparently had one _hell_ of a lawyer. Who we paid with nearly all our money. And no one would hire dad, but even so, he just sat, huddled in his bed, staring off blankly at the now-always-on TV, leaving me to take care of him completely. So _I_ had to work, six hours every fragging day. I was barely getting by in school. My ever-so-loyal boyfriend dumped me because of my father's conviction. I could barely support what was left of our family on my own.

So I was in a bad mood? Yeah. You could say that.

Oh, wait. The problems I just described were just a generalization of my fragging life!

[No. I will not mind my language, Bulk. You were the ones who forced me into speaking my mind, and I am. Now, kindly shut up.]

Today's problems alone were: Jerk faces hitting on me, diva popular girls making fun of me, me punching both categories, me landing in detention because I accidentally broke someone's arm, and me getting kicked off the basketball team. The first four problems were pretty much daily routine, but the last one really set me off. Basketball was the one of only things I had to look forward in school. And some stupid substitute coach had heard about my family relations, and put me off the team. The _real_ coach didn't give a scrap of who I was related to; he cared if I let the team down or played the game well. He was actually the one of the only two people in probably the whole of Wyoming who saw me for me and not a daughter of a convicted killer.

And I was off to another six hours of work. I was probably going to get off at ten-thirty tonight, since detention kept me back till four. So today was just fragging peachy. And I had an aft load of homework too. Looked like a no-sleep night to me.

And I haven't even gotten to the worst time period of my life.

[Ratchet, we weren't talking about you. Now kindly stop interrupting and shut up.]

Anyway. The most fragged up part of my life started when a stupid, secret, government, scientist organization decided to kidnap me for their experiments. Whoopde-fragging-do.

Maybe I should explain a little. There was me, walking innocently (as I spouted curse words under my breath) to my place of employment.

[Yeah, I know that sentence sounds weird, Raf. That's the whole point!]

Then there was a very fancy-looking green car driving up next to me, keeping up an even pace as I walked. The window rolled down, and a dude in a weird leather outfit with a mask leaned out of the driver's seat. I shouldered my bag nervously.

"Miss Retter," his voice said, "You need to come with us." Now, I would have loved to have been able to admit just ignored them and walk away to my job like it was nothing. But, really?

I decided to be a smart aft. "Yeah, creepy guy who drives up in a expensive car _and_ who knows my name and asks me to go with them?" I snorted, "Sounds too much like my ex. And after last time, I would rather take my chances and run." Before they could comprehend the words that had left my mouth, I did what any sensible teen would do if they were _literally_ told they were going to be kidnapped (seriously, they got to work on that). I ran.

[For the last time, I am not telling you his name! I do _not_ want a rumor going around that a giant alien robots to go around murdering people! More specifically, my ex! Jack, Miko, if you tell them his name, I _will_ recreate the Prank Wars. ALL of them.]

I sprinted up the sidewalk to the nearest alley way, skidding to a halt before quickly running into it. I jumped onto the dumpster and grabbed the indents in the brick wall to haul myself up onto the roof. I thought that this trick would lose them for sure.

What I didn't think of was that these were big bad government agents against a sixteen year old girl. Namely, me. So, of course, they had high tech gadgets. To be more specific, grappling hooks. I turned around in surprise when a hook dug into the brick ledge. I grumbled a more colorful version of, "You have got to be kidding me." and prepared to run until I thought of a 'weapon' I had. I pulled my history textbook out of my bag and walked over to the grappling hook. I waited till the dude in the weird outfit had climbed up, then brought the heavy, thick textbook down on his head. It made a sickening _thump_ sound as it hit his skull. I cringed slightly as the dude fell down to the ground, not moving.

"Oh god, did I just kill someone?" I whispered, suddenly very worried and horrified. I relaxed when the now-unconscious man let out a groan. "Yeah!" I whispered maniacally, "Get facebooked!" Yeah, not my best comeback, but better than nothing. I looked at my history textbook, then decided the thing was useful after all, slipping it back into my bag. I jumped (more like fell) back down onto the ground and brushed off imaginary dust. I rearranged my bag on my shoulders, and nudged the dude with my foot. He groaned again. Yep, he was still alive.

Looking back on it, I probably should've freaked out. It would've made sense to. I probably should have called 911 and completely panicked and screamed. But now, I'm actually glad I didn't, since I found _way_ better company than in Jasper than in Bedford.

[Yes, 'Bee. That is my way of saying you guys are by far the best family ever. Even if _some_ of you *cough* _Smokescreen and Miko_ *cough* are extremely annoying.]

I looked at the guy unconscious on the ground. Job? Or worry about a creepy dude who told me to allow myself get kidnapped? I thought the job was more important.

Oh, how innocent I was.

[Oh, shut up. It's not _that_ funny.]

I poked my head out of the alley, and seeing no one was there, walked out of the alleyway like no one had attempted kidnapping me. Cause I was just awesome like that. Still am. I started my grumbling again as I walked into the alley behind the restaurant where I worked. I hung my bag and beloved hoodie on the hooks just inside. I started to tie up my hair in a bun when my boss came into the hallway.

"You're late," she said, not looking up at me as she rifled through her pockets for...spare change probably. For the customers. She was an honest woman, who made her living independently, supporting her own family.

"Sorry, Rissa," I said, slipping on my apron, "Detention."

"Bullies again?" she asked. When I nodded, she sighed, "They honestly have nothing better to do? You have it hard enough already."

"Everyone has it hard," I shrug as I make my way into the kitchen, retrieving a knife, "I just make a bigger deal of it."

She gave me a look that said, "that's not true and you know it." But I ignore it, retrieving loaves of bread for sandwiches.

"What you do this time?" she sighed, handing me an order.

"Broke someone's arm," I said, neatly slicing the loaves, "Accidentally. They were the ones clawing at me."

"You need to get yourself under control," Marissa sighed, turning on the stove, "You can't keep doing this."

"I know, it's just...," my hand faltered as I sliced the bread, "They were talking about Dad being psycho. And the thing is...Dad _is_ getting a bit...crazy."

"What do you mean?" she asked as she poured clear broth into a pot.

"I mean he's...," I stopped. I probably shouldn't burden her with my problems. "Taking an actual liking to guacamole. Honestly, he has never, ever even touched the stuff!" I finished off my lie with a bright smile, which probably clashed horribly with my dull, exhausted eyes.

She just narrowed her eyes at me and went back to making the soup. I sighed quietly as I began to construct the order she had given me. It was only her and me working here at these hours. Everyone got scared away from the job when she hired the "killer's daughter". She never minded. She just wanted me to put in my best effort. Which I was absolutely fine with, since she was the only one who gave me a chance. That was a year ago. I finished making the sandwich, then placed on a plate which I placed on a tray. The next couple hours were just like this. In between working, I worked on some of my homework. Unfortunately, tonight was busy for the restaurant, so I didn't get much of it done.

The minutes flew by as the evening turned into night. Soon enough, it was closing time. I helped Marissa lock up, and started home. But before I even got two steps away, she pressed ten dollars into my hand.

"Rissa, I already told you-" I started, but then was interrupted.

"You've got it tough, Winter," she said sternly, but sympathetically, "Take it."

"I can't take this," I said, trying to hand it back, "It's yours."

"I'm telling you, take it," she said, making her way to her car, "You need a break."

Before I could object further, she started the car and drove off. I grumbled a few choice words about stubborn people, then walked in the direction of home. I slipped into my hoodie and shouldered my bag again. I put up my hood and shoved the money along with my hands into my pockets as I walked down the street. I padded along the sidewalk until I reached our street. I turned on the corner and walked down to the most unkempt house on the block.

Our house. Spattered with eggs and tomatoes, and drawn on with graffiti. Windows broken with assorted items. Let me just say, things got a whole lot worse after the trial.

[No, all of you, get back here _now_. You are not murdering a whole town of people! I don't care if it's a small town!]

I sighed and braced myself as I pushed through the creaky front door. No one would come to do repairs since it was the "murderer's" house and they felt he and anyone related to him deserved it. Oh, what was I bracing myself for?

A beer bottle being thrown at me. I never could predict how and where he threw it, so it was useless to even try. Yesterday, I'd gotten a whole new series of shards stuck in my abdomen. Today, he got my shoulder. I bit my tongue and held back tears as the sharp pieces pierced through my clothing and into my body.

"Hi, Dad," I said, monotone as I began to make my way to my room.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked, trying to be threatening, but failing in his drunken slur.

"To my room," I said simply, no turning to face him, "I need to get my homework done."

"You haven't made me dinner," he stated.

"I have not," I stated calmly.

"I want dinner," he demanded.

"I'm not your servant," I said, whirling to face him, "I'm your daughter."

"Who caused her mother to be killed!" I froze. That did it.

"The hell I did!" I yelled, "In case you haven't noticed, you were the one who got us in this! _You_ were accused of killing Mom! I still have no clue what the truth is! And here you are, blaming me, the only one who's actually keeping us here! You're not working, and for all I know, you could have actually murdered-!" I was about to rant more, but he had rushed over and locked his large hand around my throat. I struggled to gasp for air. Which was not easy when your drunk father was breathing sour, bitter breath into your face.

"You don't have any right to say that!" he hissed, "Not after what you did to your mother!" _Riiiight_. Because _I_ was the one who was at home standing over a stabbed Mom with a bloody knife in hand. Oh wait, that was you. Of course, I couldn't say this out loud since my father was currently depriving me of oxygen intentionally.

What I _did_ manage to choke out, however, was, " _Screw you."_ I then kicked him in the ribs, making him release me. I took a much-needed breath, then ran out the back door into the woods behind our house. I immediately climbed up into a birch and held my head. What in the name of Pit was I going to do? I had run off from my dad. There was no going back. I could ask Marissa for help, but I didn't want to burden her.

"What the hell am I going to do?" I muttered. Or at least, I started to, until my throat immediately rejected this and decided to make me cough because of it. I massaged my throat as the coughing died down. I flinched as yelling came from the house.

"WINTER!" my dad's voice roared, "GET BACK HERE!"

So you can beat me up again? Yeah, I don't think so. I scampered into the branches of the neighboring tree and began to make my way farther into the forest. Before I could, though, a high-speed metal projectile was shot into my thigh. My thoughts? Oh, you can _not_ be serious. A gun? A fragging gun? A little overkill, Dad, don't you think?

Then, I remembered _other_ person who was after me today. Forgot about him already. Oooh. Yay. Weird dude in leather outfit and mask has a gun and has shot me. I gasped out in pain and fell out of the tree. I clenched my teeth together as I placed pressure on the bullet wound in my thigh. What? I knew basic medical procedure. I gritted my teeth together as the world swirled around me, fading away. I struggled to fight the pull on my eyelids. A man stood over me, talking into a walkie talkie or something.

"This is MECH commando number 137," he said calmly, "I have Potential 72."

Before I even had time to think _"What the heck does that mean?",_ my vision faded, along with my consciousness.

* * *

 **Whaddaya think? Anyway, important message here: As of June 7, I will be on vacation for three weeks. Meaning, no writing for that time period. Sorry. But, I will update as soon as I get back.**

 **Soooo...**

 **PEACE OUT PEOPLES!**

 **Moonlightmistborn**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2! Yeah!**

 **P.S. I need votes for what pairing you want me to do. It's either Bumblebee or Smokescreen, to Daughter of Ironman06's request.**

 **Winter's P.O.V.**

I really hate MECH.

What's MECH? Sorry, getting ahead of myself.

Anyway. Let's recap. Got shot in the leg by creepy leather outfit dude. Blacked out because of the pain. Something about potential. Right.

Let's start this part of the story with me waking up in a glass cylinder thing.

[All of you need to shut up if you want me to tell this story.]

Anyway. I opened my eyes, ignoring the searing bright light that pierced through my head, as well as the pain shooting through my leg. I made a move to get out of my bed. Which I wasn't in. So, instead of getting up, my head was whacked against a sheet of curved glass.

Yay.

"Ow! What the-!" I started, but cut myself off when a weird dude in a leather suit seemed to glare at me. Normally, I wouldn't shut up. But I don't count being locked up in a glass container and being guarded by weird dudes in leather suits as normal. Sue me.

I rubbed my throbbing head and put more pressure on my wounded leg before I looked around at my surroundings. I was in some sort of cell thing. As far as I could tell, my cell thing was in a line up with at least twenty others. Nothing was across from me except guards and another capsule with another person in it. There were closed metal doors at either side of the room. So far, I was just angry and confused at where I was. But they hadn't done anything to me, as far as I could tell.

Yet.

So far, I was relaxed-ish. Sure, I was extremely confused, but it wan't like they had killed anyone, as far as I could see.

Oh, I was very much corrected. _Very_ much corrected.

I was almost completely calm when I heard the screams. Not like horror movie scare screams. Screams of pure pain. I lifted my hand to my face to begin gnawing on my nails. It normally kept me distracted. Of course, _normally_ distractions weren't high-pitched screams of pain that you couldn't distinguish as boy or girl.

I made a move to cover my ears after a whole minute of the screaming, but then it suddenly stopped. I sighed in relief, but that 'relief' didn't even last for a whole five seconds. Two leather outfit dudes came out from the door on the right side and dragged out a vaguely humanoid figure that was slowly dissipating into a silver goo. I choked on air when I realized it _was_ a human. Or used to be anyway. The two leather dudes just carried on, dragging the once-human through the left door to who-knows where.

"Potential 68 was a failure as well," muttered a voice from the other side of the door. The man was writing something down on a clipboard, then called out to the leather outfit dudes, "Bring in the next subject." I watched, horrified, as the...I think the dude who kidnapped me called himself a commando...commandos dragged a boy from a few pods down from me into that room. He fought, obviously, but he was outnumbered three to one. Actually, more like ten to one. I felt my eyes widen in shock as the doors closed in front of the scene unfolding before my eyes: the boy, still struggling, was being belted down on a table, machines beginning to whir into motion around him. I gasped out in fear. Was that going to happen to me? How many more had been killed? Was I going to be killed next? I tried to slow down my breathing and stay calm, but that clearly wasn't working. So, I decided to sort out the facts.

The people being tested on, they were called Potentials. The commando who had kidnapped me called me Potential 72. Scientist guy had just tested Potential 68. He was now testing Potential 69, as the current start of screaming reminded me. I shuddered and held my hands over my ears.

"What the hell have I gotten into?" I murmured. I kept my position like this as 69 was dragged out as a humanoid figure with silver metal oozing from its pores, then 70 put in. Screams. A limp statue of silvery metal, dragged out. 71 put in. Screams. A bowl of silvery liquid metal, carried out. I held my hands over my mouth to help control my hyperventilating and my gag reflex. It didn't do much.

"Bring in 72." Oh, those words about killed me. As soon as they opened my pod, I fought like they were going to drag me down to hell. Which, in reality, was probably what was going to happen.

"Let me go!" I shouted, swinging my elbow into a commando's stomach, mentally slapping myself for demanding to the people who kidnapped me to let me go. I swear, I was such an idiot sometimes. I yelped when one of them kicked me in the leg where the bullet was still lodged in, but then got him back by throwing a punch to the side of his head, effectively knocking him out. I gritted my teeth as another came at me with a gun. I yelled out in pain as he shot me in the other leg, causing enough pain to render me useless and harmless. The scientist looked amused as I was dragged into the...laboratory, I think?

"She has quite the unbroken will," he commented, "She may be the first success. I have figured out what may be a flaw. Instead of injecting the unidentified metal over or into the skin, it should be onto the bone, so it can take over her actual body structure."

"Dude, if you're going to kidnap and experiment on me, can you at least use words that make sense?" I asked irritably, still struggling as the commandos belted me to the table. The scientist nodded to them, and they went out of the room, doors silently sliding closed behind them. He just chuckled, snapping his fingers. The machines whirred into action around me. I flinched and gritted my teeth as one of them began making an opening in my arm. It wasn't _that_ painful...until it started cutting right down to the bone. I let out a yell, straining to get out. Mr. Scientist was putting something into a machine that had a needle on the end. I let out a scream as the sharp blade cut from where it made the opening all the way down to my wrist, still dragging it down the bone.

"Alright," the scientist said casually, gathering up his clipboard, "Experimentation starts...now." Right as he said 'now' the machine with the needle pressed the sharp metal tip through the cut in my flesh and to the bone. I yelled out as I felt the hot liquid metal coat my bone. I looked at my arm, scared to see a trickle silver liquid metal traveling through me. I felt the white-hot searing pain travel through the rest of my body. I screamed out, barely able to keep conscious. "How interesting," the scientist mused, "Your fight is what is keeping you alive. The others gave up quite easily."

"Go. To. Hell." I hissed through my gritted teeth. He just chuckled and did something with the machine currently injecting metal into me. The machine pulled the needle out from my arm. I hissed as the last of the white-hot pain dissipated in my chest. I exhaled, feeling relieved as the white-hot feeling left my body.

Unfortunately, that was the one of the _least_ painful parts.

I yelled out again as I felt biting pains _inside_ me. I struggled to get out of my restraints, again, only more desperately this time.

"What's this?" the scientist asked curiously, looking at something on a screen, "It appears the metal has combined with your cells, taking in the reproduction factor. It's eating away at your bones, replacing it with itself. This is amazing!"

"What is wrong with you?" I shouted, pulling at my restraints again, trying to get out, "At least 71 people died because of this, and you call it _amazing_?" He suddenly turned around and grinned maniacally at me.

"Smart girl," he said, "Figured out the Potentials, did you?" I only glared at him before feeling another jab of pain in my spine, yelling out in pain, corresponding with it. The biting at my bones seemed to last an eternity. I screamed until my throat was raw. I was clenching my hands tightly enough so that my nails bit into my palms and started bleeding. I bit my tongue so hard that I thought I would've accidentally bit it off. Then, _finally_ , after what seemed like forever, it stopped. The biting in my bones faded away. The pain lingered, but it seemed unimportant. I needed to get _out_ of there.

[Yes, I screamed a lot. Just like you screamed a lot when I scared you with a horde of bunny rabbits, Hatchet.]

I struggled again at my restraints, but in vain. They were firmly secured. No way was I going to get out of there, unless I developed superhuman abilities.

Which is apparently exactly what happened.

My bones seemed to vibrate slightly in correspondence to my thought of escape. Something seemed to dig its way out of my body through...erm, _everywhere_. Piercing pain enveloped me. I hissed out air through gritted teeth, trying to get used to the pain.

"Wait, what?" the scientist said, sounding panicked for the first time, "Th-that shouldn't even be possible without the subject dying!"

Well, _that_ was comforting. I yelled out as an excruciating feeling ripped through me as the...something-or-other dug out of me. I barely noticed the restraints snapping and me falling to the ground. Pain was the only thing that was felt by my senses, _overwhelming_ them. The painful, sharp somethings continued to dig out of my skin. I was vaguely aware of the scientist dude running out of the room. I curled up into a ball, willing, _begging_ the pain to stop.

"Make it stop," I muttered, "Stop. Stop. Stop. Pain, stop." As a particularly sharp something pushed its way out of my torso, I screeched out, "STOP!" I think the normal person would have found me delusional and would have taken me to the nearest mental facility if the heard me just then. Hell, I think _I_ would have taken me to a mental facility if I weren't me.

Okay, after that statement, I'm actually questioning my sanity.

[I don't know how I passed the sanity test Hatchet gave me either, guys.]

I stayed curled up on the floor, trying to endure through the severe, acute pain flashing through my body. It seems like hours before the pain thrums away. But when it does, I sigh in relief as it floods away from me. I bring my head down to the ground to rest it. I slowed my hyperventilation.

Aaaand it immediately returns when I feel a cold metal barrel pressed to the top of my skull.

"Potential 72," a...I'm guessing it was a commando...said, voice shaking slightly, "Stand down."

"Please," I whispered, pulling my head up. I didn't notice the new metallic undertone in my voice. "Please just stop the pain. The pain makes it worse."

"Stand down, 72," the commando said, more threateningly, shoving the gun into my skull more. At the threat, something foreign, something _not_ me seemed to take over. I jumped up, swinging my fist into his face. I felt my eyes widen at the sight of my fist, but the foreign... _thing..._ seemed to not pay any attention to the fact that my arm was COVERED IN FRAGGING METAL ARMOR! The thing that controlled me placed the now-unconscious commando in a headlock, making my eyes move around, searching...actually, more like _scanning_ for something. Maybe more commando idiots, but it seemed he hadn't brought any slagging backup. I broke out of my state of shock that I was in from looking at my metal-plated arm and...erm, I didn't exactly know what I did actually. It was like I shoved the invading force from where my brain decides...stuff. Yeah, sue me for not being smart. Science was _not_ my forte.

Was being the key word. But that'll come later.

As soon as I regained control of my body I dropped the commando and looked at myself. I was covered head to toe in a silvery metal armor. Ohhhkay. That wasn't weird at all. I looked in the reflection in my arm...Primus, that sounds weird...and, if possible, my eyes widened even more. Two pieces of metal were slanted against each other at a...160 degree angle? Okay, not important. My shoulder length brown hair seemed to be replaced by the silvery metal. Besides my glowing bright blue eyes, the rest off my face was hidden in shadow.

That's right. I said glowing blue eyes.

I was officially freaked out.

"Off!" I sputtered, shaking around in what probably looked like a ridiculous dance, "Off, you stupid metal, whatever-the-hell-you-are!"

Of course, nothing happened.

To life, who I know is listening: I hate you too. Really, I do.

* * *

 **UGHHHHHHH! SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG! STUPID VACATION...**

 **Okay, hope you enjoyed the chappie!**

 **Soooo...**

 **PEACE OUT PEOPLES!**

 **Moonlightmistborn**


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